Draco Sings
by Chaos-chick3
Summary: A Moulin Rouge interlude at Hogwarts. Draco sings to a most unexpected audience, with interesting results.


Harry was in the Great Hall when it happened.

The place was still fairly empty, with only a scattering of students seated at the huge house tables. After the second vision of the night had left him screaming and shaking with Cruciatus after effects, he'd taken that as a sign that he wasn't going to get much rest, and so spent the night working on his Transfigurations essay. He'd gone down to breakfast as soon as possible, hoping a cup of strong tea would help.

As he picked morosely at his scrambled eggs and sipped his tea, he noticed Malfoy looking at him in an odd way. The blond seemed to reach some decision as he watched; setting down his fork, he stood and proceeded to stroll leisurely toward the Gryffindor table.

Harry slipped a hand into his pocket for his wand, wary of what Malfoy was up to. Malfoy was alone and didn't look like he was plotting something unpleasant, but that didn't mean anything. When he reached the table, the blond stopped about a foot away from Harry and cleared his throat.

Harry tensed, tightening his grip on his wand. However, he was totally unprepared for what Malfoy did next.

"WE SHOULD BE LOOOOOOVERS!" Malfoy sang --yes, _sang--_in a nice rich tenor.

Harry blinked. "The _fuck_, Malfoy?" he asked, incredulously. The few students who were also in the Great Hall so early were swiveling towards them, similar expressions of shock on their faces.

"We should be loooovers...and that's a fact!" continued Malfoy, gazing earnestly into Harry's face.

Harry vaguely recognized the song now --Moulin Rouge, or some musical? --but still had no idea what Malfoy was playing at.

"Um, did you eat something from the twins?" he asked suspiciously, eyeing the blond.

To his continued disbelief, Malfoy _pouted_ when it became apparent that Harry had no intention of singing the next line. Unfortunately, the blond continued, unfazed.

"We could steal tiiiiime...just for one day!"

This was unreal. Harry pinched himself to see if he was dreaming (it hurt). He poked at his scar, but there was no pain there, nothing to indicate that this was all some bizarre new plan Voldemort had come up with to convince his nemesis that he was going insane.

"WE COULD BE HEROOOOOOS, FOREVER AND EVER!" Malfoy belted, increasing in volume and striking an exaggerated pose, to Harry's alarm.

"Finite incantatum!" he cried, aiming his wand at the blond. Nothing happened, except for Malfoy moving onto the next line.

"We can be herooooos, just because--"

By now, as more students trickled into the Great Hall, the air was filled with the buzz of speculation and whispers among the other students. Harry looked frantically up at the head table for help, but there was nobody there except for Hagrid, who looked equally bewildered, and Professor Binns, who hadnt noticed and was actually drifting in the middle of the bacon.

"AAAAIIIEEEEAAAIIIII WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOOOOOU!" the Slytherin sang, dropping to one knee.

Harry backed away, horrified. "Somebody do something!" he yelled, searching the hall for Dumbledore, McGonagall, even Snape, to no avail.

"AAAIIIEEEEAAIIIII CAN'T HELP LOVING YOOOOOU!" wailed Malfoy, still quite tunefully. He dropped the other knee as well and leaned in toward Harry, who was trapped against the heavy wooden table.

"How wonderful life is..." the blond crooned, reaching out as if to clasp Harry about the knees.

Harry scrambled onto the table with a shriek, but Malfoy followed him, placing one hand on either side of the Gryffindor's head and trapping him against the table.

"Now you're in the wooooorld!" he finished, his face so close now that Harry could feel his breath against his own lips.

He was vaguely aware that somewhere to his left, Goyle had abruptly burst out into opera. Then, Malfoy leaned in even closer, puckering his lips as his eyes fluttered shut

It was all too much for Harry to handle. Green eyes rolling upward into his head, the Boy-Who-Lived fainted away in the middle of a large platter of pancakes.

His mission complete, Malfoy straightened his robes and strode back to the Slytherin table.

"You owe me ten galleons," he smirked haughtily, holding a hand out to Zabini. "I told you I could knock Potter out without touching him."


End file.
